Dream House

Dream House


We built our home on the Tennessee River,
next door to the Sailboat Club.
Like most kids,
I took advantage of our dream house on the water.
Only recently have I remembered what it was like
to wake up every morning with the sun seeping
in like rays of honey through my white wooden blinds,
filling the folds of my feather duvet,
the thick shag carpet greeting my feet.
Dad stirring in the kitchen
making blueberry oat-bran muffins,
Mom yelling “school day” up the stairs
in that annoying voice--I so love,
Those goodbye kisses with hazelnut coffee
lingering on her breath.
Being too teenager for breakfast,
but having a fridge that was always stocked
with something more than condiments,
one lonely beer, and my roommate’s leftover ravioli.
I paid no attention to the vibrant sails slicing
across the glassy water like giant kites,
or the flickering fireflies on dark nights,
blinking in the grass like fallen stars,
or my parents sleeping in the same bed.
Us all together in our dream house.

They bought their house on the Tennessee River
Next door to the Sailboat Club.
Only recently have I remembered
what it was like driving by on Memorial Day
to see strange cars in our lot
The “FOR SALE” sign
“SOLD”
Our back-porch dressed in unusual wicker furniture,
The splash of a kindergarten cannon-ball in our pool
where my friends and I used to get high
and blame our bloodshot eyes on the Chlorine.
I heard the still-together parents
telling their soggy kids not to pick
at their peeling sunburn,
in between swallows of grilled burgers.
I took snapshots in my head of the new family partying
out on the boat all day, fishing and wake-boarding,
on that three day weekend,
at our house,
I replace their faces with our faces.
All happily together in their house, my dream.